


Beyond The Pixels' Veil

by ByzanTeen



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Gen, Self-Mutilation, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByzanTeen/pseuds/ByzanTeen
Summary: In the Neo World Program, those unfortunate enough to have died are usually deleted immediately, their personalities buried deep within the code. Fortunately(?) Nagito Komaeda's personality sticks around, separated from his avatar by death, like a ghost in the machine.





	Beyond The Pixels' Veil

As he inhaled deeply, the pain faded and his vision blurred. His final memories were of how sweet the poison smelled compared to the burnt merchandise and fabric. Or.... they should have been his final memories at least. Why could he still think? Still remember the smell? He couldn't smell it anymore but loss of senses was something he was accustomed to... but shouldn't he have lost more than his sensory input by now? He can see the others, so that at least stayed. He couldn't hear the screaming but he could see their open mouths, terrified expressions on each face. How unfortunate, he must have overdone the damage to scare them so. Of course if his plan had went through then only one of them would have been stuck remembering this for long.

He decided to stand up. Perhaps he could play this off, nobody would consider this too far out of his normal behavior if he got talking long enough. To his surprise, his limbs slipped easily out of their bonds. The knots must have loosened in the fire. As he got up he saw a monitor turn on. The bear was drinking his usual cocktail. Taking a second to process this, he looked down at where he was standing: his own mutilated corpse, a look of terror forever etched on his face.

Nagito Komaeda was dead. He had been for a long time, really, but now it was real. He was, by one method or another, existing independent of his physical body. Chalk it up to bad luck that when he finally manages to die, and in such a gruesome way, not only does he traumatize the ones he wants to test but he himself must face the results of his deed. It's funny then, as he looks down at the cut up and skewered body. This is the first time he hasn't felt disgust upon seeing himself. With his pale complexion he had often envied vampires for never having to view themselves, and for having a quick yet painful method of finishing themselves in the midday sun if eternity became unbearable, yet it was only when he himself was skewered through the heart with an oversized stake that he felt solace. His grotesquely abused body would serve a grander purpose he never could in life. This would be the true test of hopes. The so-called Ultimates of Hope's Peak Academy, if they ever had truly embodied hope after all, facing down the unknown traitor, the only untainted one. Though really, that was only the set dressing. The real conflict was his own hope to eradicate all despair from this island, locked against his hope that his classmates, the friends he could have had, the man he loved, could indeed shine with hope once more and vanquish their own inner darkness. 

He hoped he'd have one last chance for good luck, and fade before having to see the trial. Even he didn't want to watch the betrayal on their faces. They wouldn't understand that he had to do this. They'd never understand why he had to do this. Not even Monokuma would truly know Nagito's motive. Not even Nagito had yet decided which outcome was preferred. He had left evidence in his cottage, sloppily handled garbage he was sure would be found. But if he did want them to figure it out, why go to this length? He knew the traitor was the only remaining hope. They couldn't die, there would be no reprieve for any of them if that happened. It seemed not even death could quell this inner conflict. Nor did it fully return the gaps in his memory. He could see flashes, the school, some students he had never met, a man radiating with this intense aura that seemed to drain out all the hope from his very soul. This man interested him the most. He almost looked, almost felt familiar. Is he the world ender? No, world ender was the future foundation was the traitor was the only hope. Nagito sinks into this memory, this vision, this dream. He's ready to move beyond this plan, to let go for once. If not in life, then in death. 

As he floats through, neither particularly knowing nor caring what his "body" does now, the only moments of clarity come when he sees the work of this strange man. Bodies crumble and relationships turn to dust as Nagito's diseased mind struggles to make sense of this academic purgatory he walks through. And then, he wakes.

He awakes in a cold room, feeling the weight of a physical body for the first time in so long. He has to fight back tears, not over the joy dodging death but over the crushing sadness of having never truly felt its embrace. A hand reaches out, Nagito looks up and sees the man he loved in that odd dream, then he takes hold and everything rushes into him like trying to hold a hurricane. He feels the destroyer of worlds, the one whose aura completely overwhelmed him even in memory. For the first time since the day they met, Nagito genuinely smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Komaeda!


End file.
